


All In

by superstringtheory



Series: hungry heart [6]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Bets & Wagers, Burping, Consensual Kink, F/M, Feeding Kink, Fluff, Light Dom/sub, Teasing, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 16:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16223111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superstringtheory/pseuds/superstringtheory
Summary: “You’re a bottomless pit,” Betty says, sounding delighted about it.“We’ll see,” Jughead responds, shifting a little to try and make his belly more comfortable. “We’ll see after I see this dessert you have in mind.”Aka, Jughead loses a poker bet and Betty plans a very full day for him.





	All In

It started innocuously enough. Well, as far as such things went- 

 

“We simply  _ have _ to make it up to the cabin again before summer’s over,” Veronica had said, or maybe she didn’t sound quite so Upper East Side as all that, but it’s what Jughead remembers. 

 

Cocktails by the fire had led to the hot tub and poker with waterproof cards, because of  _ course _ the Lodges kept those stocked in their summer house. Poker had led to betting, and betting to Jughead’s poker face having absolutely no power against Betty laughing, her head thrown back, hair damp and curling around her face, the creamy skin of her legs just visible in the water. 

 

What she’d won was a secret from the others. “It’s private,” she’d said, maybe a little tipsy, draping her arms around Jughead’s neck, her breath hot in his ear. “It’s worth more to me than money.” 

 

Veronica had raised an expertly arched eyebrow, but then Archie’d folded and had agreed to accompany her to the ballet in September and let her dress him, and he’d splashed her, and then Betty was fitting herself next to him like a puzzle piece, and his memory of the rest of the night is a blur. 

 

Only one part is clear: the prize Betty’d won, and that Jughead was going to deliver, in spades. 

 

*** 

 

Betty is a planner. Jughead learned this about her long before they were Betty-and-Jughead, before just the sight of her hair falling into her face was enough to turn him on, before he’d learned that watching him overindulge himself was her thing. Before he’d eaten himself and Betty to many orgasms and out of most of his wardrobe along the way. 

 

This morning, Betty looks every bit the proverbial cat with the canary, though Jughead knows he’ll be the one putting things in his mouth. 

 

“Morning,” she says as he opens the car door. She turns her cheek up for his kiss, but Jughead maneuvers to get her lips instead. 

 

“Mmm,” she says as he leans back, settling into the passenger seat. “That  _ is _ a good morning.” Jughead smiles at her, and they’re looking goopily at each other in the dirt in front of the Jones trailer one could call a parking space when Jughead’s stomach growls loudly. 

 

Betty pouts. “Aww,” she says, reaching over to pat his little gut, which now laps over his waistband even when empty. “I hope you’re hungry, Jug.” 

 

Jughead makes sure to catch her eye. “I think you know I am.” 

 

*** 

 

Jughead raises a brow when Betty swings the SUV into Pop’s parking lot, and keeps it up when he sees that she leaves the car running. 

 

“Be right back,” she says. 

 

“You little minx,” Jughead says, and loves the way he can watch the blush blossom on her face. He can’t wait to see how much he can make her squirm today, can’t wait to tease her to the breaking point. He’s a little disappointed that they aren’t going into Pop’s as he really  _ is _ hungry, but he supposes some things are better left to the bedroom. He enjoys Betty’s enjoyment of public displays of feederism, but if her plans involve anything like what he’s imagining, it’s probably best that they’ll be alone. 

 

“Here,” Betty says a few minutes later, dropping a paper sack into Jughead’s lap. “Get started.” It’s not exactly an order, but it’s certainly not a request. Jughead doesn’t need to be told twice. He unfolds the bag and peeks inside: three burgers, a large order of fries, and a little paper sleeve of onion rings. 

 

“Your drinks are in the cupholders,” Betty says over her shoulder, looking through the rearview mirror to back up. Jughead reaches unlooking with his left hand, already using his right to pop a few fries into his mouth. His fingers touch cool condensation and he turns to look: a large chocolate milkshake. Nestled next to it is a large soft drink, likely a regular Coke. Betty’s devious like that, getting excess calories into him any way she can. 

 

Jughead takes a long pull from the milkshake straw, gulping and swallowing several times, enjoying how Betty’s lingering at the edge of Pop’s parking lot. The car’s blinker is on and there’s no traffic in either direction, but Betty’s not looking. She’s watching Jughead’s throat and mouth, listening to how he smacks his lips in a little “Ahhh!” sound. 

 

She seems to catch herself though, quickly turning her head away and then moving her hands past ten and two on the steering wheel, moving the car out onto the road. 

 

“Where to next?” Jughead asks after a few minutes of driving, his mouth full of burger. 

 

“You have ketchup on your chin,” Betty says, with only a quick glance away from the road. Jughead drags a paper napkin over his lips and then shoves a whole onion ring into his mouth. 

 

“Nice touch with the onion rings,” he says by way of making conversation. He takes a few contemplative sips from the milkshake and the soda in turn. Yup, regular Coke. 

 

Betty keeps on driving, and they’re out of Riverdale proper now, driving past open fields and only seeing a few cars go past them. 

 

Jughead sighs out a long belch as he finishes up the milkshake and feels immense satisfaction as he sees Betty’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. 

 

“Excuse me,” he says belatedly, then burps again, giving his stomach an audible pat. There’s a light flush on Betty’s cheek, but she resolutely continues to watch the road. 

 

“I hope you’ve got something else planned, because I’m not done yet.” 

 

“Oh, Jughead.” Betty laughs. “You have a very full day ahead of you.” 

 

*** 

 

By the time Betty eases the car into a parking spot, the milkshake and the soda cups are empty and Jughead is feeling pleasantly sated. He stretches and yawns, enjoying the supremely good sensation of having eaten well. 

 

“Here,” Betty leans into the backseat and retrieves an item of clothing that looks suspiciously like the suit jacket Jughead had worn last Homecoming. The suit jacket that had only barely fit him in October. “You’ll need this.” 

 

*** 

 

After a twice-baked potato (“and sour cream,” Betty’d instructed the waiter), Caesar salad (“extra dressing”), and half a ribeye steak (“butter on the side”), Jughead has to excuse himself to the restroom to assess the clothing damage. 

 

The jacket has got to go. He’d managed to button the top of three buttons, but now that he’s eaten so much, even that feels like it’s impeding his aching stomach. He breathes out-- not even that hard!-- and the button pops off, pinging away into a corner of the room. 

 

It’s better, certainly, but it’s not just in the abdominal region that the jacket doesn’t fit. The arms feel too tight, too, like he couldn’t raise his arms more than the distance needed for a fork to go from plate to mouth. Of course, that’s probably the way Betty likes it. 

 

Regardless, it’s too restricting, so Jughead shucks the jacket, dabbing at his forehead with a paper towel when that effort makes him feel sweaty. He catches his own eye in the mirror after that, noticing the way his t-shirt is hugging his gut like a second skin. He touches it experimentally, giving it a little rub the way Betty does when he’s lying in her bed like a beached whale, stuffed to the gills as she continues to spoon ice cream into his mouth. God, what he wouldn’t give to lie down right now. 

 

His ministrations bring up a couple of round belches and he feels a little less pained. He’d unbuttoned his pants before the waiter had even taken their orders, and he takes a moment to unzip them a bit to give his belly more room. His gut settles into the space like it wants to be there and Jughead imagines what it’d feel like to have handfuls of fat there-- the kind of belly he could lift up and drop on a table and make Betty come untouched. He shivers. 

 

Full or not, he’s ready to eat again.

 

*** 

 

“Think I ate myself out of my clothes,” Jughead murmurs in Betty’s ear as he goes past her to his own seat at the restaurant. 

 

Betty bites her lip and Jughead can see her cross and then uncross her legs under the table. 

 

“Well,” she says finally. “You still have some work to do on that steak.” 

 

“Of course,” Jughead breezes, leaning back a little so that Betty can see just how tight his shirt has gotten. “I might need a little help with dessert, though.” 

 

Betty eyes him like an archer finds the heart of a target. “What makes you think you’re getting dessert?” 

 

Jughead takes another bite of steak, rolls it around in his mouth, then chews and swallows. Takes another bite, washes it down with a large gulp of soda. Belches into his napkin. Finds Betty’s gaze.

 

“Because I want it,” he says. “And because I’m still hungry.” 

 

*** 

 

After he swallows the last bite of steak, Jughead has to sit and close his eyes for a minute. He’s so full it’s like he can feel it up to his eye sockets, so full he’s ready to pop. 

 

“You okay?” 

 

He slits an eye open at the touch of Betty’s hand on his knee, and nods. 

 

“I’m good,” he manages, and it sounds a little wheezy. He’s eaten so much that even his voice is tight, much less all of his clothes. 

 

“Poor baby,” Betty hums, her hand moving up from his leg to the turgid bulge of his stomach. She scoots her chair in closer to his, and he’s sure this is why she’d had them both on the more secluded side of the table and in a corner. Betty’s other hand joins in and she starts to rub his belly gently under the table, working her fingers in light circles. 

 

Jughead lets his eyes slide shut again, no longer caring about posture or decorum. There’s hardly anyone else in the restaurant anyway, and he’s really too stuffed to be bothered. 

 

“Did you eat too much?” Betty wants to know, and Jughead nods again tiredly, a little smirk forming on his lips. 

 

“You know I did.” He pauses to let out a single, stuffed-sounding hiccup. “Pardon. But I haven’t forgotten about that dessert.” Jughead looks up at Betty through his eyelashes in that way he knows drives her crazy. 

 

“You’re a bottomless pit,” Betty says, sounding delighted about it. 

 

“We’ll see,” Jughead responds, shifting a little to try and make his belly more comfortable. “We’ll see after I see this dessert you have in mind.” 

 

*** 

 

Their final stop is an old fashioned ice cream parlor, and Betty watches Jughead eat ice cream until he’s whimpering with fullness. 

 

_ I want you to eat as much as you can _ , Betty’d whispered into his ear that night at the Lodge’s, her breath fruity.  _ I want you to eat until you can’t anymore… and I want to watch. _

 

“That’s it,” Jughead lets the spoon clatter into the empty bowl and emits a low groan. “God,” he pants. “I’ve never been so full in my life.” He burps but it’s shallow and almost queasy and doesn’t bring him any modicum of relief. “God,” he repeats, palming the crest of his stomach in a daze. “Betts, I think you got your prize.” 

 

Betty’s biting her lip at him, then moving to sit next to him on his side of the booth. Her breath is hot in his ear again, and he can only barely hear her. 

 

“My prize hog,” she says, and even though they’ve already discussed this-- neither of them is into the piggy play aspect of feederism-- this little remark makes Jughead shiver with anticipation, with need. 

 

“I need your hands on me,” he manages, grabbing her wrist and placing her hand on his belly. “I need your hands all over me.” 

 

Betty smiles. 

 

“First, though, I’m gonna need your help to the car.” 

 

Betty’s eyes glint. “You bet.” 

 

*****

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on tumblr at superstringtheory.tumblr.com- I'm a sucker for Bughead and Jughead's canonical overeating.


End file.
